twisted hippie propaganda

From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair

Second Updated Edition

Timothy Bowen

cc 2011 Timothy Bowen
From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair is licensed by a Creative Commons Attribution-Share-alike 2.0 license

ISBN-13:978-1461175513 ISBN-10:1461175518

Published by Timothy Bowen and Thomas Bryan McSweeny Edited by W. Ryan Bufford
First Printing 2007 Second Updated Edition 2011

OTHER TITLES BY TIMOTHY BOWEN Hallucinating Arkansas Voices of Chaos Jonesboria Discordia

PLEASE REQUEST THESE BOOKS IN YOUR LOCAL LIBRARY Official Blog: http://popetimothybowen.blogspot.com/ Fanpage: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Timothy-Bowen/172138416174586

Manufactured in the United States of America 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Timothy Bowen

CONTENTS
OPEN WIDE
. . . . . From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair Like The Widow’s Solemn Dance Dream One Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts Upon Forgetting Dreams The Act of Waiting Explanation Mark I Wanna Go Down Today Dream Two This Ham Spread Sandwich Really Rocks! Things I Do Without Dream Three Running Dream Four Dumb Dumb Diddly Dumb Do the Europeans Really Do All That? Everybody’s Got One Xander and “D” Kicking Ass in Heaven DIVE RIGHT IN . . . . . Cannot Find Server My Cat Steevie Some People Adjustment When I Can’t Sleep Was I Tripping? Pieces of Comfort Part ONE Focus Makes Good Features Dream Five Many Silly Names Jonesboro Howling at the Howler Yep To Be Discarded Knowing Myself Obscure Metaphors are Stupid Dream Six Pieces of Comfort Part TWO 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 35 36 37 38 39 40

Timothy Bowen

ABNORMALITY

. . . I Am Dream Seven Pieces of Comfort Part THREE Stars Under My Toenail Thank You Alan Moore Is the Page Number of This Poem Significant? Oh Mercy! Dream Eight Make Pretty Things Tontons Macoute Open the Gates Kerry Wendell Thornley PRESTIDIGITATION . . . Afterward to first printing Afterward to updated second edition

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Timothy Bowen

Timothy Bowen

welcome to the death cult

Timothy Bowen

From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair

OPEN WIDE
The mouths look empty Open wide enough to look So now it begins

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From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair

From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair
Pulsating penis penetrating prostate puckers Vaginal velocity vibrating verily Fuck you. I’m a good guy. I could talk forever about naught, does that make me sick? Meaningless manhood maimed and meaty Frolicking flowers fiddled by fingers Whatever. Like I care. If this poem shows my sorrow, does that make me an artist? Sinful saturation subordinate, subsiding somewhere Beautiful babes bouncing boobs beyond The check is here, pay for it. I’m having difficulty sleeping again. I can’t think of anything but aggression. It’s hurting my stomach.

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From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair

Like The Widow’s Solemn Dance
The spider weaves its web in trance While all its prey, they do their dance Of fluttering, both to and fro Until the web entraps them so "Much like the webs the Widow strings I shall tell you many things" She spoke to me as I there lay My face betwixt her thighs all day And Lo! My lady did she speak Of man and woman, frail and weak Who wander, ponder aimlessly Upon the Widow’s tapestry

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From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair

Dream One
I'm all action movie with the black and red team trying to find orange team who advertise on milk cartons when I read one I realize they are me and it just makes me thirsty I attack the soda machine until it gives me correct change then I wake up thirsty and get some water

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From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair

Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts
while the congregations busily debated the problems of the world we realized there were none and danced merrily across the battlefield

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From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair

Upon Forgetting Dreams
You made me forget my dreams you dream about me and tell me about it I’m not sure what I dream about I think I know a few things that I want I want you nameless entities with offers and temptations I used to dream I could walk on air like stairs poisoning spews through all I see and can be you said I’m lost in the mist and to accept blind, dumb, LUCK another 4 letter whore of night scarlet? Can this all be boiled down to a goose and ping pong ball? Fuck!?

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From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair

The Act of Waiting
upon viewing the oracles they all say the same thing that I know exactly what to do I have the answers, the solution is in my hands the image of the silent sitting figure understanding the action required in this situation is no action no care, no worry that wave over my body flowing up through my head it happens when they discuss my problems without even knowing it seems like forever since I basked in solitude the sacrifices have grown scarce I've noticed my appreciation for language lately words like "craving," "longing" people keep asking me what's wrong as if I knew and could tell them I know Zen masters become the act of sweeping perhaps I am becoming the act of waiting

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From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair

Explanation Mark
To steal- rip off be a scandalous hoe yeah I rob oooohhh...BETRAYAL! That was "mine" you "took" it from me Deceit - Lies - Manipulation C- O- N- T- R- O- L such an urge to SMASH such an urge to BECOME FOOL!!! There is no "Control" machine! (note the power in them 4 letter words)

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I Wanna Go Down Today
Lay in bed all day. hey sleep is good I wanna go down today down to the numb tingling, itching hey why not? I like my bed a lot a couple of pills a Cursive CD a blanket to soak up the drool and tears mo hey now my stomach has been upset anyway and it's been raining all week it's Friday HEY! sleep deep, thick, fluffy opiate daze haze maze craze HEY! been up too long need a break or a FIX HEY! get well get down! take another nap this afternoon 9

From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair

Dream Two
I’m with a pal of mine, he’s kind of a hick But he’s really cool Anyway, so there is this old Indian tribal medicine man In the closet. People are feeding him nails and rope and such And he vomits out belt buckles for them. When it’s my turn I feed him some pizza But do not get a belt buckle. Which is really sad. Since I sure did want one. The one my pal got was neat.

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From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair

This Ham Spread Sandwich Really Rocks!
Damn, that felt like a wet one. Need another bite of peanut butter. Ok, wash that down. Oh yeah, that’s the good stuff This Ham Spread sandwich really rocks! No, for real. It’s kind of like potted meat Mixed with Spam, and I put white American cheese on it Slapped it thick on sliced Italian bread. PB&J on whole wheat on the side. I’m rocking this computer tonight. People are dying in the world right now.

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From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair

Things I Do Without.
I don’t need no bee-bop An I ain’t got no shoes I have more masks Than I can keep track. An’ smokin’ makes me cool. I don’t need no red fox Alone or in a box I’m a traveling salesman. You wanted to let me in Hey, my name is Tim. I don’t need no beat box An’ I ain’t got no clue I’m just flushing porches I don’t need no TV To wash away my blues.

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Dream Three
Mike Roach is this kid I used to know, for real. I’m house sitting for him with my girl, see? This Puerto-Rican lady comes to the door And asks if the Roach’s are home. They are not. So we get taken outside to her van. Where 4 men are festively dressed And play their fancy guitars for us. Mike comes home, asks if I went to the house at the end of the street. No, why? There’s a witch who lives there, evil old thing. I’ve been in love with her youngest daughter since I was a child. The Puerto-Rican lady? No, she’s awesome. Did you enjoy the show?

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Running
Oh fuck! This really hurts!!

Oh Fuck! I’m really out of shape!!

Uphill… uphill…uphill Pant… pant… groan Don’t think I’m going to be able To go any farther If I just wasn’t so fat…

Wait…

DOWNHILL!!!

RUNNING!!

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From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair

Dream Four
Jacob’s Dead! Long live Jacob!! The Freemasons’ are digging a ditch They throw the body in Lines form and everything is nice and formal Jacob’s Dead! Long live Jacob!! His grandfather holds the highest degree Thirty mother fucking three He starts the dance: First he spits in the ditch Yells, “Fuck Martin Luther King, Jr. !!” Jacob’s Dead! Long live Jacob!! Down the line they do the same They even make the one black guy join in I’m really sad and this is all Very fucked up.

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From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair

Dumb Dumb Diddly Dumb
You are so dumb it makes me numb. When you thought that shit was about you. Or the time you thought I could control your bladder With my mind… But it’s cool, man. I’ve never been as good or as powerful or as cool As the rumors… Well, just to make things even, this poem is about you.

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Do the Europeans Really Do All That?
I’m finding this all A little hard to swallow About our neighbors across the pond And their deviant lifestyles portrayed In all these advertisements That I got in the mail today. Sexually orientated add it said. >)x(< I mean, I’m sure some of them do. But then I’m also sure that some Americans do as well. >)x(< So why does it specifically say “European” By the picture of the lady and the dog? >)x(<

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From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair

Everybody’s Got One
Everybody got one Gotta gotta get gone Come on get the wrong one Everybody got one Everybody sought fun Hiding in the dog bun Pretty little frog pun Pulling out his gun… …Gun …Gun Everybody got one So maybe you’re the wrong one Don’t mean you can’t have fun Pretending to be the sun. All together now!!

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From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair

Xander and “D” Kicking Ass in Heaven
I used to think you used the word “Love” way too much Now I think I don’t enough I was the one person you would drag yourself down To be at level with When everyone else you’d force to dance I took it as a compliment. Yet sadness I feel with thoughts of loss And pain of never seeing either of you again I am filled with joy at the thought Of you and your mom reuniting Under a perfect sunset In a perfect place And while I still refuse to believe in Hell I’m absolutely certain that Heaven is real And you two are kicking all kinds of ass

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From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair

DIVE RIGHT IN
Down here it seems calm Still waters breathe on me now This pit is so deep

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From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair

Cannot Find Server
Half a pack of smokes and a belly full of regret A painful zit on my ass making it hard for me to sit Now sure, I’ve made mistakes But who hasn’t? And yeah, I’ve called you names But who hasn’t? There are people I’d like to speak to There are friends I’ve gone and lost There are thoughts I get, mostly at night That make me want to die So go on with your grudges And keep up all your jokes I’m sick of it I’m sick of this All you phonies and your coke It stings like marijuana when you’re already depressed This thing I’m in … this eternal sin Pass me another fucking gin Cuz I’m going out tonight and you might not get the call

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From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair

My Cat Stevie
Me and Stevie are two of a kind, we are Lazy, ornamental, suckers for affection A little dirty, a little tubby Quite a bit oblivious to what’s going on around us We both prefer the good chair on the carport And get a kick out of harassing the feral cats It seems the main difference between us Is that my parents let me sleep inside

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From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair

Some People
Would take driving into a train As a sign to take a different path But you’re not one of them, are you? You rebel.

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From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair

Adjustment
Mad twitching towards clouds Trying hard to remember what The clear light showed me Chemical dream Crazed primal bearing fangs Seizing my body Bonding me – oh my brother Pull me from the flames Sedate me

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From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair

When I Can’t Sleep
It’s because I can’t stop thinking about how you’ve done me wrong. It’s because I can’t make this headache go away. It’s because you’re living so far away. It’s because I’m weak and young and stupid. It’s because I’m in jail again for a total bullshit reason. It’s because I still have a bunch of smokes left and, hey why not? It’s because tomorrow something cool is going to happen.

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From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair

Was I Tripping?
That felt good I forgive you You simply had More courage Than me I would have Done the same thing I could have Done the same thing You were there for m me When I couldn’t be There for you And I forgive you

even if I don't ever expect you to forgive me

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From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair

Pieces of Comfort Part ONE
Do you feel I really care? All the same – I put on a red sock The wall gets punched My hand is bleeding Damn, she had great tits. Spinning slowing to dancing swirls The universal usefulness of all ideas Make them beautiful to me Love is the big idea “For since he was so annoyed, he could not write even a reasonably decent lie.” Fear of solitude and isolation Are my new mountains “Numbers aren’t real.” If I don’t die or worse… I just want her to come hear me sing I need companionship I’m confused. I can align the stars my damn self!

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From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair

Focus Makes Good Features
Stop spinning Stop being so tired Un-focus on the flickering lights Open the gates All wishes are granted Time will take care of everything The old man told me that in rehab He had a beard So do I Dance music Sway softly I will get my own place Ignore negative thoughts Block them from my mind

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From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair

Dream Five
I keep putting the coin in And more and more come out I keep collecting the coins And need another cup The waitress tells me the drinks aren’t free Lying bitch

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From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair

Many Silly Names
It’s what I’m known as Some I give to myself Others are given to me While an enchanter I am not And great powers I don’t have I’d like to think I’m pretty cool It’s not my fault that Those funny British guys Made that movie And called that guy Tim

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From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair

JONESBORO
You town You strange little town Growing but still stifled Vacant yet buzzing Will the coming changes To the world we live in Break you Will the coming people Moving into your growing Subdivisions Make you Why must you boo your state flag When a rival team comes to town Why must you sentence to death Anyone who’s not your own Bizarre theocracy I’ve heard the tales Of the parks silent Ignorant fear I’ve seen your flat fields Year after year But I still love you Sick little town Because we are the same… sick

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From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair

Howling at the Howler
I saw the best minds of my generation raving mad running out of bathrooms naked yelling "NO" twisted hard on toxic substance mutating prana seeing imaginary police storming houses I saw the kindest souls amongst my peers altering their DNA to that of a cockroach pushing orange buttons to inject chemicals from under the sink scattering when lights come on huddling in corners crinkling tin foil Great beauties young masochists with arms covered in binary scars admitting their re-occurring dream is to be raped by the devil meeting obsessive potheads in graveyards in secret The brightest sparks aligned with legions of creating newer faster destruction killing friendships burning bridges burying emotion denying the species forsaking genetic code I saw the most welcoming arms closing around their chests or raising fists over such untouchable things as words soft moonlike eyes turning cold feeling separate - deceived by the number two Brilliant talents pounded down with pool cues over drug debts in small towns finding belonging in a bottle and a light bulb still running around fields of intoxication with younger brother in tote

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I've seen the most gorgeous women hide their faces behind social constructs of self loathing building monuments to dark pasts they can't leave behind not forgetting to never forgive entire genders for one's disgrace I've felt currents pulse through my being from unmet lovers sending psychic shock waves across this vacant earth on holy days of new new aeon shaman building this tradition of sharing energy I've been the superconductor of waves flowing along trailer parks filled with my kin. Manifesting trinkets of meaning only in my personal mythologies sacred texts I scratch on dead trees during isolated binges of spectrums of emotions most feared. I've had pure angel faced seraph turn from me in disgust saying how I have no heart. Proclaiming me dark lord, shaking at my touch. Unwilling to look into my eyes out of fear of confirmation. I've had ethnic coworkers assert my angelic nature. Praising my soft heart and unyielding generosity my father calls a fault. Seeing just that mask. I wear them all. All the time I know skilled wielders of mythic reigns hiding out of town in secluded wooden castles, complaining how they won't accept them, flaunting footage of previous demonstrations of separation. I see things others don't. Some can't some won't try. I see energy in patterns of fractals flowing in perfect order of chaos. sometimes these energies take physical shape as visions 33

From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair

or I hear their story of all existence we all already know. I see great truths of my generation as truths of the old saying no thing is true. I exist in realities shared by tribes of many and tribes of few, both parallel, both false. I've seen soft timid creatures bare fangs at the site of blood. I've seen death in my arms puking in my mouth from underage junkies in country sides of majestic majesty. I've seen virginal truants feeling alone amongst hordes of this drug cultures jargon spewing minions sharing histories of disgrace. I've seen what was right in front of my face disappear with out reason, without meaning. I've seen myself assign definition where there was none alone in rooms full of comradely. I see fields of brown, Sky's of red. Grey ash covered faces horrified, running from flames. I accept this as being perfect. I see it's place. I've seen an image of myself touching infinity in ecstatic orgasm of all in its right place. I've seen you as wrong. I've seen you as love. I see you as a sex object. I see you as the only real enemy in my life I'm meant to destroy. I see you as part of the divine holy everything I will ever love or call a part of myself I'm willing to die for. I see myself mostly. Doesn't matter what I'm looking at or who I'm viewing it's introspection. You have this trait I'm proud of having. show it. Now we're one. You have a trait I'm ashamed of. Show it. Now we're two. I'm deceived. 34

From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair

Yep
so it seems there's a cat outside my door constantly scratching at it and meowing... but when I open it there's nothing out there... so I go smoke on the carport with the light on and a hammer..... sometimes my brain doesn't function right.

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To Be Discarded
constant repetition unspoken conduct rules recognized only touching our eyes straining hands plead for more WALKING OUT THE DOOR audience member cathode ray absorption a view so cruel sitting-----------o-----may I treat waiting---------o-----you like observation----o-----a princess WALKING OUT THE DOOR object of celibacy use just once and destroy boredom breeds repetition (idle hand-devil) motivation to change re-structure I'm aware of your foundation falling now usage, deceit. stagnation, wanting to be held remembrance. twitching, bruised. agreeable falling again. no more. ritual abuse WALKING OUT THE DOOR spooning. holding hands I watch you sleep your lips move you're dreaming of me again so much pain in such little contact WALKING OUT THE DOOR all meaning in symbols is defined by the artist yet for some reason I can't help thinking all magic is dead

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Knowing Myself
May I spin you my dear? Spin you until you truly feel all the purity of all the bliss holding onto all the oneness in awe of everything worshiping everything? everything... everything... that you are I am Dissolve ALL the separation and all the years and all tears of spending time and spending money and spending all those useless spent emotions you spent all you could spend on the ones you thought that you never even fucking wanted to feel in the first place! But it WAS your choice! So just let me spin you or at least watch me spin and maybe we can synchronize it and spin together 37

From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair

Obscure Metaphors are Stupid
Prince has Princess Knight has no Queen the "Court" cards lawyers - Jews Seperoth Liber Kabala THE ABLA THE DABLA a view so cruel CUT!! CUT!! CUT!! Repeat! AGAIN! Repeat! Robotic-ally repeat the same seven sentences: 1. I control You 2. We control Them 3. It controls everything 4. control controls control 5. I'm afraid to sleep 6. I was stoned and it seemed like a good idea 7. I control You NOW SCREAM LOUDLY IN BINARY!!! 10! 10! IOA! IAO!! punch anyone who "believes" in Sumerian Mythology even if it's yourself dude...wait....I GET "IT" !!!

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Dream Six
I am a soldier Not sure if it’s the Army or Navy or whatever I keep hearing about my fellow soldiers Killing themselves By picking up the stoves And dropping them on their heads So I try it out I figure it’s better than fighting a war

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Pieces of Comfort Part TWO
Nothing else I wanna try that's no way to be God don't make no junk I’m walking around as if there really is a thing called fate. Metaphorical Autobiography mixed with nonsense

Comfort
down for anything which made her the best at the time power of language as the written word foreign exchange students the world turned shades of grey except her who was vibrantly glowing with color further imprinting desire for single mothers oh mother drug took me in her womb in their minds I am a liar un-focus on the flickering lights I'm not that desperate (I am) Alone (I am) oh god (I am) I am maybe I don't wanna finish anything anymore I wanna go down today perfect situation pictured I don't care if Monday’s blue

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From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair

ABNORMALITY
Normally I’d quit Abnormally I’d give up Watch the penguin dance

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I Am
I am trying to get back on my feet You see, I slipped. I am working on making a life For myself I am fucking with you and wasting your time I am showing you my soul And my spirit My true self And my cock What do you think? I am a lazy no good drifter I am living I am a fool I am still trying to convince myself that I can do MAGIC! I am a domesticated primate I am Ol' Boy Floats I am 396 I am a Fenderson I am Pogo Pope 1111 Dope Pope I am Tyny Tymn I am Righteous among the nations I am a human individual I am a Damned Thing I am Cursed I am be spited, I am spit upon, pissed on, drove into a shell, and smiling I am all these things and I am not. I am suspicious 42

From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair

I am very paranoid Because I am very vain I am named after the man named Leary whose symbol was an eye in a pyramid Like that means anything… REALLY I am a powerful enchanter (oh wait, didn’t I already deny that?) I’m laughing at my own farts I am not going to fit in your box Unless I want to I am a recovering drug addict I am a coward because I am writing this down instead of saying it to your face I am the one you want Until you get me I am a poet and I am a quitter and I am a winner and I am a you I am not Charles Bukowski; however He would know how to end this poem.

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Dream Seven
I woke up drunk You say you have the strangest dreams when you sleep with me and you're sure something bad is on its way ‘cuz feeling this good shouldn't be well baby it's always calm before the storm Just watch

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Pieces of Comfort Part THREE
Sloth is the slut that will force herself on you. She is the slut that will do all the work for you If your dick is not hard she will unzip your pants, take it out, and suck it until it is. There is no need for her to undress herself, for sloth is the slut that wears next to nothing. For if you come across this slut on the street, she is always willing, and able, to be pulled into an alley, and get fucked and fucked and FUCKED
I cared not for consequences but wrote

Legba thrusts between Eris’ soft, velvety thighs. The e continues to fall. There is a rising tide of weirdness. All prayers are answered, sometimes with a “no.” Lee wrote all the best Sonic Youth songs. By the time you read this these will all be old ideas. Don’t let that stop you from thinking they’re pretty. “Have you ever seen a number?” It is truly an uncanny ability to bring oneself to tears for no reason Faces do seem ugly when you’re alone. The red hand started appearing again in front of my face. Everyone I see is a mocking, laughing enemy. This would come in waves

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Stars Under My Toenail (Celestial Bum)
everything is borrowed my skin; my skin taken back- old skin used flesh- spent spun web- skeletal cold inside muscles face- thin powder diminishing moisture i borrowed these stars nothing at my feet but air and i'm only borrowing this air i borrowed your face 2 masks- old skin is the mask less real than the skin underneath yet all that is under the skin is still borrowed

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Thank You Alan Moore
Old trench coats stalking cigarette alley Goddess graffiti on brick stained shadows Costumes and make up A beat down, a shake up Chivalry and absinthe Walkie-Talkie juke joints Sex and religion is sex is religion Tao Fthagn DMT-7 An old hero looking up to the sky My cape is old yet trusty I’m the best there’s ever been Golden age meets Platinum youth A gangster’s smile The devil’s grin He’s wiping semen from her chin

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Is the Page Number of This Poem Significant?
Does it mean something when South Park steals your jokes? Wendy’s new slogan is “That’s Right.” I’m sure it’s all very serious When Harry Potter runs through the woods Yelling “Sirius!!” Sometimes true Sometime false Sometimes meaningless Let’s plant a house

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Oh Mercy!
Oh please just a little mercy Because I don’t know what to do It’s not just another fancy fit My heart staged a fucking coup Oh please a little dignity At least just a steady pace I fucked it up, oh my dumb luck You think you’re tired of loosing face? Green arms to hold me To alter raining age Blue face all smiling Eyes aflame and soothing

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Dream Eight
Shopping at Wall-Mart for costumes A child smiling at my heel He stops us to say “Everyday is Halloween!” The ceilings are so high Plants are kept in plastic pumpkins Now I’m in a huge library I find the deck of the Moon I get the urge to steal And I successfully resist I shoot the golf balls with a machine gun I hold her so tight she calls me Glen Danzig I just want her close to me She smiles “You finally said the word ‘Feel’ It’s like you’re in a movie” She’s recording all the audio on her computer

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Make Pretty Things
Keep your hands busy Keep your mind off the thoughts That make you cry and yell at people You can’t lock yourself up forever It won’t always rain I’m patient And I’ll wait For those walls that never stopped me before To crumble The sun will shine when you’re ready for it

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Tontons Macoute
To make life as normal as possible Drinking blood from a wonderful horse There’s a turtle Sending signals from my bed thick wavy lines escape my head to only wonder what you said to make these lines become so red You’ve done wrong brother And sit there with that smile

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Open the Gates
Comfort Leisure Recreation Addictive Bruises Taco Bell Knife Doorway Window PAPA! O! Highway we are going!

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Kerry Wendell Thornley
Kerry you fucker you sick sick fucker I love you I love how sick you were Kerry you paranoid you fucking psychopath I'm paranoid too how could you not be? Adam Gorigthly oh pen name of who? wrote that silly book on you it made me tinkle like your words make me sparkle ’specially the part where he talked about how sometimes you would try to have sex with children. you rebel you. I feel deep down in my heart that If you were alive today and some young jerk wanted to write a poem about you you'd tell him to use the word FUCK a lot

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PRESTIDIGITATION
To the left it goes Where it came from no one knows Playing with my toes

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From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair

AFTERWARD TO FIRST PRINTING
I left off one important thing from the poem “I Am.” I am blessed. I say this because I am blessed to live in a time when self-publishing is a viable option to aspiring writers. Even a decade ago, if someone wanted to see their work in print, they would have to try to pitch it to a publisher to print it for them, or invest largely in a printing press. I grew up writing and wondering which avenue I would eventually be heading. Being a poet, and realizing just how hard it would be to get someone else to print my work, I always assumed it would be getting a printing press. Sadly, I don’t come from money, and have never been good at keeping a job, so this investment seemed just out of reach. Then, about a year ago I stumbled upon the website for Lulu Press. Immediately I knew I was going to be using this company and get my work out there. I am also blessed in that I grew up in an age where I took keyboarding classes in Jr. High, and have been around computers most of my life. I knew how to compile my work in a document that the Lulu servers could read and print. I had a wealth of old poems sitting around collecting dust. I photo-shopped up a front and back cover. And that is how Memoirs of a Daydreamer was born. For those of you who don’t know, Memoirs was my first published poetry collection. I’ve since taken it off the market, and a few dozen copies exist in print. You see, when getting that book together, I put in any old crappy poem I could find, along with my current work, and basically threw it together in the course of two days. Of course, I wasn’t very happy with it after a while, and though I made constant revisions trying to fix it, I eventually found that the bulk of it’s flaws were terminal. You can’t just make a bad poem good with fancy editing and formatting. Since the initial publishing of Memoirs I have been blessed with work that has shaped this book in more ways than 56

From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair

one. First, around the time I started work on Memoirs, I found a great website and met a great man. The website is the headquarters for POEE/UK, and the man calls himself Rev. St. Synaptyx KSC. Syn had also found Lulu Press, and had been using it to publish Discordian Holy Books. Being a long time Discordian, with love for the Goddess Eris that rivals none, I took it upon myself to follow in this great man’s large footprints. (Perhaps I should say ‘Butprints in the Sand?’) I spent the next month or so obsessively getting my own Discordian Tome written and published. Again, it’s not the best out there, but it was the best I could do at the time. Upon completion and publication of this work, The Jonesboria Discordia, I started compiling every single Discordian Holy work I could find. Being that most all of it is Kopyleft – All Rights Reversed, there was nothing stopping me. If nothing else, this forced me to teach myself everything I could about formatting, editing, and designing books. Each book I finished looked a little nicer than the last, and taught me something new. These are all still available for free download (Kopyleft, remember?) at , and hardcopies, (Squid Juice on Dead Trees as we call them), available for purchase at http://www.lulu.com/JHESFC. (UPDATE: SOME OF THIS IS NO LONGER TRUE) The second blessing that led to this work came as a tragedy at first. One of the best friends I’ve ever had, Xander Smith, died in a horrible accident. It crushed me. Xander was the most positive and life affirming human being I’d ever met. He was also one of the first people I ever hung out with after moving to Arkansas. And though I thought I knew it during his life, I never fully realized until recently, he was also one of the best poets who ever lived. About a year after his death, and a few months after I published Memoirs, Xander’s grandmother contacted me asking for help getting his poetry published. I gladly accepted, and Never Forget Me was published soon after. This was just

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the poems he had on his website. Turns out, he had written quite a lot in his short life. For the past year, I’ve spent a lot of time typing, editing, formatting and designing books of his poems. At the time of this writing there are three published, many sold, and at least four more in the works. Doing this has taught me a lot about what makes a good poem, what makes a good poet, and basically what makes a good human. Xander’s poetry is a wonderful reflection of how he lived. It is full of wonder, love and joy. Having to put my own work up against his has forced me to strive to write better, and I’m grateful for the opportunity. All of Xander’s work can be purchased online at http://stores.lulu.com/wilmabrecheen1 or some of the books can be found through just about any retail bookseller’s website, (Amazon, Barnes and Nobles, ect.), thanks to Lulu Press’ wonderful distribution service, and to his grandmother Wilma for purchasing the service. Lastly, I am blessed to live in such a bizarre world filled with such odd people. Every poem in this book is drawn from my life and the people in it. The Chinese have an ancient curse that goes “May you live in interesting times.” I find that with the right amount of imagination, this curse can easily be flipped around into a blessing. I Love You All Timothy Bowen July 29, 2007

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From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair

we are milipedes we are forever like Millipedes we are always hugging

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From the Mouths of Babes to the Pit of Despair

AFTERWORD TO SECOND UPDATED EDITION
I wrote a lot of these poems over a decade ago. I was a lot different person back them. Looking back now, some of this is very embarrassing, some is hilarious, and a few I'm still genuinely proud of. My most recent collection of poetry, HALLUCINATING ARKANSAS, follows a lot of the same roads I started taking when writing this first book, and some of the roads I feel have finished walking down, for now at least. The thing about this work that really touches me is the work I did involving dreams. The dream poems in this work were written in fast, desperate fevers the moment upon waking up. I plan on making a book that is nothing but dream poetry some day. In this work I also started experimenting with verbal noise and word collages. With my more recent work, I feel that I'm done walking down that road. Same goes for the epic Alan Ginsberg odes. This new edition has some poems switched up, some removed and some included back in, but it all reflects my life from high school to my mid twenties. Now that I'm 30, I look back and see that I still have some of the desperation, determination, and adoration that I had in those days, I'm just not as raw or clumsy. I'm also a lot more tired and have more trouble sleeping. I have a larger belly. Since releasing this book for the first time, I've worked as a housekeeper in Alsaska, hitchhiked across the west coast, attended another Rainbow Gathering, worked on political campaigns in Arkansas and Wisconsin, fallen in and out of love a lot, given up on a few things, picked back up things I thought I gave up forever, and still don't feel grown up in the slightest. I still love all of you. Timothy Bowen 5/11/2011

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This book was crowd funded through Indiegogo.com donations
Crowd funding (sometimes called crowd financing, crowd sourced capital, or street performer protocols) describes the collective cooperation, attention and trust by people who network and pool their money and other resources together, usually via the Internet, to support efforts initiated by other people or organizations .

Thanks to the following ETERNAL VOICES: Dane Dormio - “Ale Harris!” Richard and Holly Bowen- Proud Parents
Amanda Makepeace - Artist, writer, free spirit.

www.amandamakepeace.com April Brown THOMAS MCSWEENY

Diogenes the Sincere
El Sjaako Artz Ov Asquaretree LOB - http://www.ain23.com/ Keisha Robertson

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